


a little sweetness

by GalaxyGhosty



Series: Commissions [4]
Category: Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Dirty Talk, Jealousy, M/M, Possessive Behavior
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-23
Updated: 2018-12-23
Packaged: 2019-09-25 16:47:22
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,906
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17125055
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GalaxyGhosty/pseuds/GalaxyGhosty
Summary: AU. Dark’s doing that thing again.





	a little sweetness

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Thalia963](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Thalia963/gifts).



> A long, long, long overdue commission for the lovely Thalia. 
> 
> She asked me for some good possessive dark/jack so I was happy to deliver :p
> 
> Classes have finally stopped eating me alive and I managed to sit down and crank this bad boy out in about a day. It was actually a lot of fun to develop the world! Partially inspired by Once Upon a Time because I've definitely been watching too much of that lately with my mom, haha. I really like this universe so eventually I may dabble in it a little more if I'm feeling adventurous. 
> 
> Overall, hope you guys like it!

Dark’s doing that thing again.

And by that thing, Jack means that thing where he glowers at Jack from across the room like some sort of jealous husband, angry that his wife is so much as breathing the same air as another man.

Jack politely ignores it. This function is, after all, mandatory, and Jack has a duty to uphold. 

Prince Seán William McLoughlin--the youngest of the line, but the most influential, to say the least. His gift of charisma and energy is rivaled by few, if any at all, and though a political leader he is not, he captures the hearts of many--many of which would very much like his in return.

It’s almost fun, really. Watching people paw for his attention. His brother, Malcolm, the ruler of these lands, has been king for some time, and Mally has been kind in not forcing a partner upon him. Traditionally, it would be appropriate for Jack to take a female companion, and god knows many ladies and princesses have come seeking his affection, but as he has no need to produce offspring if he doesn’t want to, it isn’t unheard of for men to seek his company, either. Especially considering that he has expressed interest in both sexes. 

Of all the people who have ever become enspelled by him, though, Jack’s the most interested in the one glowering from across the room. 

Dark--a monolith of strength, the bearer of a lifetime of sins, stained hands and gruesome murders. Tainted magic and a smolder so decadent that any other person would’ve fallen to their knees for even a chance at what he had to offer. Some sort of murderous mixture of magic and man, poison blood between dragon and human alike. He’s had many names over the years--the Devil, the Cursed, the Wicked, but in recent years--and in Jack’s memory--he’s notably gone by the Dark One, spurning such a nickname as Dark. 

Their...relationship had begun very strangely. In the height of war, Mally had sought help from outside, magical forces, enlisting the help of Dark, whose reputation precedes him for certain. He’d swept in during the new moon, a flurry of shadows, with a twisted smile so sinfully dripping of bad intent. Mally had been no fool, not by a long shot, and the deal-making between the two had been...difficult. 

Dark wanted more than Mally had been willing to give. It went back and forth like that. This was a common tactic for him--knowing Mally needed his magic, knowing that Mally would do _anything_ for his people, but what he wasn’t prepared for was Jack, having just returned home from a journey south. 

In his words, Dark had been fascinated with him from the moment he’d seen him. Soft lines and curved edges, but the sharpness of his eyes--he’d been enamored from the first moment, or so he said. The way that Jack walked in his skin, the way that he seemed to fluid, energetic, owning himself as no mortal he’d ever seen had ever done before. 

_Beautiful_ , he’d told him later. _You were beautiful, and I had to have you._

And have him he did. Dark had worked closely with Mally in the days to follow, and only later did Mally learn about Dark’s desire to be closer to him. He’d used it as an advantage, and Jack didn’t blame him in the slightest for that. It just made getting rid of Dark a lot harder. 

Not that he particularly wanted to. 

No, Dark is a bit like a mold. He grows on you, with his haughty little smirks and gorgeous red eyes, his pale skin cast in a greyish hue. He’s stunning in his own right, and Jack has had worse men beg for his attention for sure. He has, in some capacity, gotten used to Dark’s gentle touches and fervent kisses along the corridor, pressing him down hard and rough on nights where Jack’s been gone far too long. 

There’s no real name for it, their relationship. But Jack can’t be bothered to come up with one. 

It’s quietly known throughout the kingdom that the Dark One has chosen a favorite. It’s not necessarily public, but gossip spreads like wildfire. Dark’s not at all private about branding him in public, bruises and kisses in places that are so difficult to hide that Jack’s since given up trying to. The embarrassment of it has faded. Regardless, this knowledge doesn’t stop people from still trying to earn his favor. 

The Feast of Kings is a good time for that. Because there’s no better way to Malcolm McLoughlin than his youngest brother. 

And Jack chooses to entertain at these events, in his full princely garb, somehow still unused to the fabric brushing against his skin, silken and elegant. The crown weighs heavy on his head, less ornate than Mally’s for sure, but still glistening under the light. He’s talked with several lords and ladies thus far, and he’s not blind to their gentle flirting by any means, but over the years, Jack’s gotten quite good at deflecting it. 

Dark’s glowering is not helping, though.

Some would find it a death sentence to ignore the Dark One. Jack just finds it a hell of a lot more convenient. 

Lord Dunwick is the next man to catch his attention, after Lady Elide. He’s a gross sort of man, a little too leering and he’s got that gaze in his eye like he wants to either eat Jack or kill him, and he really can’t figure out which is worse. Nevertheless, he’s polite when he approaches him, offering a little bow of his head with the brightest of smiles.

“My lord!” he cheers, and _gods_ , Jack swears he can feel the scoff Dark makes. “What a pleasure it is to see you. I was informed that your attendance was not certain, so it warms my heart to find you.”

They would be the richest kingdom in all the lands if Jack had a gold piece for every time he had to lie like this. 

“Prince Seán,” the lord greets him, and Jack inwardly shudders at the way he speaks his name. “Not a day goes by that I am not grateful for that light in your eyes.”

Jack inclines his head in a manner of grace. “You flatter me. I take it things are well down in Euria?” 

Euria is the little junction of land he has the unfortunate possession over. 

“Indeed,” Lord Dunwick replies, and the lilt to his voice gives Jack a bit of an idea for the next words out of his mouth. “It has just been trying times, with my wife having passed.”

Right. Dunwick’s got a son to inherit his lands when he finally croaks, making himself eligible material for a new partner. Jack can’t imagine touching the man any longer than five seconds, let alone sharing a bed with him. 

“What a shame that is,” Jack murmurs, thrusting as much sincerity as he can muster. The woman was probably nice. Probably. “How is your son? Well, I hope?” 

“Growing up to be a fine young man,” Dunwick says, and is he getting closer to him? He definitely is. “He is in need of guidance, though.”

The smile he’s pasted on begins to falter. He tries to hold onto it. “I’m sure someone of your esteem can find a very suitable governor or governess to provide that, my lord.”

Dunwick’s eyes trail down, and Jack fights off the need to flinch away. Without permission he grabs Jack’s left hand, and it takes a _lot_ of energy to not backhand him. 

“No ring,” he comments, like it isn’t totally obvious. “Forgive me, your highness. I just find it surprising that you’ve still yet to take a partner.” 

“It doesn’t trouble me much,” is his answer, honest and true. It really doesn’t. Not with Dark around, or even before that. “When the time is right, and the right person comes along, I’m sure it’ll work out.”

“What pressure that must be,” Dunwick drawls on, “to be patient in this. Does your king not try and marry you off?”

Why, in all the gods, has he not let go of his hand yet? 

“My king has yet to find a purpose in doing so,” he murmurs. “I am much more useful unmarried, as I do not have marital duties to worry about.” 

There’s that tickle on the back of his neck. Dark’s definitely watching, and he definitely sees that they have not stopped touching in well over three minutes. Hopefully, Dunwick gets the hint and lets go, unless he wants to be missing a hand.

He doesn’t. Instead, in his boldest and dumbest move, he pulls him closer. 

“I’m sure an arrangement could be worked out, in that instance,” Jack takes a low, sobering breath as the warmth of his skin ghosts over him. He smells the liquor from this gathering and something akin to tobacco of some kind. A pipe, presumably. “You would want benefits for your king, would you not?”

Jack opens his mouth to politely deny such a thing, because Mally is doing _great_ , and whatever Dunwick tries to offer can be matched by better, more powerful allies who know how to keep their hands off his little brother. He doesn’t get a chance to, though, as his free hand rests on Jack’s waist, in a most suggestive manner.

Okay. No more niceness.

“I think it’s time you let go,” Jack says, narrowing his gaze. “It’s been a pleasure, my lord.”

“Imagine the strength this could bring your kingdom,” he tells him, as though he hadn’t spoken. In fact, his grip tightens. Jack grits his teeth. “Imagine the benefits. You, away from the political drivel. Spending your days free, and unoccupied.”

“Boring, to say the least,” Jack tugs away gently, and is only more frustrated when that gentle tug does not grant him freedom. “Let go of me, Lord Dunwick.”

When Dunwick’s hand slides from his waist to get a nice handful of his ass, Jack’s fully prepared to deck him. He’s not weak by any means, and knows exactly how to hit a man where it hurts, but he doesn’t get the chance. 

Perhaps the second that Dunwick grabs him, he goes flying back against the wall. Music stalls, gasps echo, and by his side stands Dark, his hand stretched out in front of him. 

The lord, disoriented, stabilizes himself, taking a good look at Dark. Dark’s face is expressionless, but when he opens his mouth, Dark clenches his fist. 

Dunwick grabs at his throat, and Jack realizes quickly that he’s choking. He leans over and grapples for air, but can find none.

“You do not touch what is not yours,” Dark’s voice drips with acid, filling his chest with an immeasurable weight. “You do not look at what is not yours. You do not even _think_ about what is not yours. You are not _worthy_ to be anywhere _near_ what is _mine_.”

The room stands in a harrowing silence. Not willing to see death tonight, not for this, Jack reaches out and grabs his elbow. “Dark.”

Dark doesn’t stop. If anything, it seems he grows more irritated by Jack’s interference. Jack pulls on him hard. “ _Dark_. Enough.”

He sees the twist of Dark’s lips as he finally lets go of that hold, and Dunwick gasps, loud and fearful as he takes air into his lungs. He leans back against the wall to steady himself, and his knees tremble as he looks upon Dark. 

“Vermin,” Dark spits, and Jack feels that radiating aura around him, causing tremors in the very core of reality. “Disgusting _swine_. Laying your hands in places that only _I_ may touch. Do you seek to lose those hands? I may know just--”

“Dark,” Jack warns, cutting off whatever foul thing he’s going to spit. “That’s enough. Let. It. Go.”

“Did he not touch you without your consent?” Dark asks, without looking at him, that vile gaze still pinned on the man, trembling in his boots. “Did he not--”

“It’s fine,” Jack insists, and _finally_ , the being turns to him.

He feels every ounce of that power within his skin, trapped into those bones, and a long time ago, Jack may have been scared of this. But all of that magic is condensed, compacted into one beautiful silhouette of a man, and without a doubt, Dark will not hurt him. 

Dark blinks at him, craning his neck. He feels the rumble and pop of those bones, still holding onto Dark’s arm, before Dark hisses out to Dunwick, “Do not touch him again.”

And then the being’s grabbing him, yanking him away from prying eyes and hushed whispers. Away from the celebration and away from any other earthly contact but his own. 

Jack doesn’t get a chance to even get one word of fussing out before Dark’s slamming him against the wall, and kissing him. 

Frustrating as it may be, gods, if it isn’t good. They’ve been doing this song and dance for months now, and Jack winds his fingers into the silky strands of Dark’s black hair, tasting the charcoal and sweetness of his magic. A pure, unbridled want permeates into his skin, and it shakes him, somehow, to be wanted like this, especially when Dark’s mouth moves and nips at his neck, holding his hips steady when he jerks.

“Dark,” Jack breathes out, wincing at a particularly hard bite, swallowing down the groan that almost leaves him. “Dark, come on. Now’s not--”

“ _He touched you_ ,” Dark growls, and those hands press bruises into his hips, hard and unyielding. “He touched you, Seán, as though he had the _right_. The _privilege_ of looking upon what is _mine_.” 

“Easy, easy,” Jack soothes, combing his fingers through his hair as Dark noses at the juncture between his neck and shoulder. “Gods, Dark. You sound like a jealous ogre.” 

Dark hums against his neck, depositing another kiss at the hollow of his throat, before raising his head back up. He meets his gaze, that bloody red glistening in the little light, and for a moment, he’s lost in it. 

“You are mine,” he says again, as though affirming it, warm breath ghosting over his face, hovering just above his lips. “No one else may have you.”

“I’m yet unmarried,” Jack warns him, careful, slow. “You don't own me. No one does.” 

Dark closes that scant amount of space between them, lingering, as he mumbles against his lips, “If it’s a ring you want, _dulcedo_ , I am happy to provide.” 

_Dulcedo_. Sweetness. Some foreign word in Dark’s foreign tongue that never ceases to get a tingle out of his spine. 

Jack smoothes his hands over his shoulders, bunching the fabric of his soft tunic between his fingers. “No guarantee I’ll even say yes.”

“You will,” Dark rumbles, pressing a hot, open-mouthed kiss to his jaw. “I have...the utmost confidence of the sort.”

“So sure?”

“There’s little you say no to when my cock is in you,” and gods, Dark plants those words directly into his ear, nibbling on the lobe, “when you’re writhing beneath me, begging for release as I fuck you nice and slow, teasing that special spot in you…”

His grip on the being tightens. “Dark…”

“Perhaps I’ll take you now,” he croons, and accentuates this remark by pressing their hips together, where both of their arousals are clearly interested. “Leave a pretty little limp in your step so no one will even think of laying a finger on you, knowing that all of you belongs to me.” 

Jack squeezes his eyes shut, taking in a measured breath. None of this, not now. He’s got places to be, he’s got talks to have, he’s got… 

“Look at me, Seán,” Dark whispers, and his hand slides down to cup the growing bulge in his pants. “Let me see your eyes as I work you open, let me hear that pretty voice sing my name, let me--”

“Dark,” Jack cuts him off, anchoring himself with a fistful of Dark’s hair. “Enough. I...I have to...I have to get back.” 

He opens his eyes, and Dark’s looking at him, lips pressed into a thin line, considerate, but his hand slides away. Jack lets out a low sigh, willing the blood from _that_ head back into the other. 

Jack moves his hands to Dark’s cheeks, cupping them, before pulling him in for another long kiss. It’s heavier for certain, but he pours every ounce of affection he can into it, and Dark...seems to be receptive to it. 

“Come to my room tonight?” Jack asks, more of a breath than anything, but his companion hears it nonetheless. 

His lips curl into a smile, soft, warm, and so uniquely Dark that Jack can’t help but feel his heart stutter at it. 

“Where else would I be?” he asks, pulling away from him. But not before taking his hands, kissing the knuckles one at a time, giving them a gentle squeeze. “I will see you tonight, _dulcedo_.”

Dark takes a step back, the shadows encasing him, and despite the fact that he disappears, Jack knows he’s not really gone. 

Nevertheless, he straightens out his jacket, smoothing back his hair, and hopes he doesn’t look as messy as he feels as he heads back into the audience chamber.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you guys so much for reading and commenting, it really means so much! Please feel free to chat with me over at voidskelly.tumblr.com!


End file.
